Just One Touch
by YayRainbows
Summary: Santana Lopez is famous, she's a triple threat if she does say so herself. She's also gay, but nobody needs to know that. Brittany is a fangirl. She dances when she can, works as a masseuse when she can't, and checks (stalks) Santana's Twitter when possible (all day). Santana Lopez doesn't believe in fate, but one day turns her life upside down and she may just need to reevaluate


"Be still, Satan!"

"If you don't wanna cry today, Lady Hummel, I suggests you back off right about now afores I get scissor happy on your gay-ward Cullen hair and make you look like gay-ward Scissorhands instead."

-"I have your scissors"-

-"Sugar has your scissors," Kurt and Sugar say at the same time. Santana just scowls.

Before Santana can respond with any more threats, Quinn walks into the room just having ended a conversation on her phone.

"How's my favorite client?" Quinn asks.

"I'm your only client, Juno" Santana retorts, still sporting her scowl.

"Well someone's feeling just peachy today. What's got your lacy panties in a bunch? Was Asian Lykke Li terrible in bed? Or did it turn out she only LOOKS like a lesbian?" Quinn teases, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Stop creeping through my underwear drawer Fabray, your gay is showing. And Her name is Tina," she replies as she takes a swipe at Quinn's coffee, "and she's a lesbian alright." she mumbles.

"Then what's wrong Sappho, did she take over your shower and try to stay for breakfast?" Kurt jokes, still putting the finishing touches on Santana's hair.

"No, " is the sole reply, Santana's lip almost pouting.

Quinn, Sugar, and Kurt all turn their gazes towards her, eyebrows raised.

"What?!" Santana snaps. Scowl back on full force.

"Nothing, you're just like, acting really strange and moody." Sugar braves to answer. "Well, even more than usual." She mutters the last part.

"Shut it moneybags, no one asked you." Santana shoots back.

"actually you just di-" Sugar stops mid-sentence as she notices Santana's glare being directed at her.

Sensing danger Quinn intervenes. "Santana, you're about to go live. As your manager and publicist I suggest you get whatever it is off your chest now before we have a Zizes repeat and Snix headlines in all the major media outlets again."

"That sumo had it coming. Besides-"

"-Need I remind you of the work it took to rehabilitate your image after that fiasco?" Quinn interrupts before she loses complete control of the conversation.

"No one needs reminding of that, and forcing me to hang out with Berry is not something I can forget without copious amounts of tequila. And even that won't do the trick. Believe me, I tried"

"I helped" Sugar supplies cheerily. Kurt rolls his eyes.

"If you ask me the punishment does not fit the crime. I didn't even go ALL Lima Heights on the sasquatch. Having to associate with the hobbit is what you should subject a serial killer with a specific Catholic school dwarf fetish to do... that way he could off her after he-"

"Santana! Rachel Berry is the epitome of a clean image! She carries herself with poise, and she's like the Meryl Streep of our generation!-"

"Rachel's words, not Quinn's" Kurt says to no one in particular.

"-She's graceful, extremely talented, generous, not to mention very, very pretty-" Quinn trails off, apparently not meaning to say the last part out loud.

"-Quinn's words, not Rachel's." Kurt says to a giggling Sugar.

"-You should be happy to be friends with her!" Clearing her throat, Quinn finishes with "she was the perfect solution to your predicament, she made you look more... wholesome" professionalism back intact.

"And I suppose your super lesbigay crush on her had nothing to do with it? " Santana smirks.

"Santana! I. Do. NOT. Have. A gay crush on Rachel! Would you drop it already? Contrary to what you might think, not every girl is into riding the magic rainbow to lesboland like you are!" Quinn snaps with her best head bitch voice, but falling short as a noticeable blush colors her cheeks when she realizes how that sounded.

"Magical huh?" Kurt mutters in Sugar's ear with a raised eyebrow. Sugar, for her part, is almost in hysterics at this point.

Knowing she won that argument, instead of responding, Santana reaches for her nail file and proceeds to file down her nails. Noticing the movement, Quinn looks over and blushes harder as she notices what Santana is doing, her normally clean mind going to inappropriate places at the sight of the casual activity. Santana grins.

"Well, we can't afford to have you lose your temper on live television again just because you're moody over a hook-up. So spit it out." Quinn bites, not in the mood for games anymore.

Santana's mood immediately darkens, but seeing no way out this time as they all state back at her once again she begins "it's-it's just that Tina said something to me yesterday."

"Please Santana, Pleaseee don't tell me you like her!" Quinn shrieks.

"What?" Santana replies somewhat confused. "God, no! Get it together Fabgay!" she says looking disgusted at the thought of actually _LIKING _someone. She shudders.

"Well, what then? " Quinn asks visibly relieved. Don't get her wrong, she wants Santana to find love, but she just couldn't handle a diva duo, and that's exactly what a Santana /Tina partnership would be.

"Well" Santana wrings her hands, suddenly shy again. Biting her lip, she sputters out "Tina kind of insinuated I'm using my popularity on the show and my relationship to sell this record."

"No way, Quinn just used your show to get a meeting with the label. And dating that rapper guy is totally just so people don't find out you like the ladies." Sugar adds helpfully. Kurt shoots her a you're not helping glare.

Quinn steps up. "Look Santana. You can't let this get to you. You and I both know you're talented and that you worked very hard for this. Yes, I may have only gotten a meeting with the label that quickly because you're already famous, but trust me when I say it would have happened either way. Somehow you would have made them listen just like you made the producers of the show watch you over the thousands of girls auditioning. People will always judge you for that, but you can't let them make you feel insecure. We know the truth, and when they hear you they'll know the truth. And if they don't, well they're idiots."

"Thanks Q." Santana says with a little laugh.

"Alright ladies now that all our periods are properly synced up, can I get back to making Santana look fabulous?" Kurt asked.

"Bitch, I'm naturally fabulous."

"Sure, honey." Kurt agrees I order to placate her.

Santana stands behind the curtain, a bundle of nervous energy. She hates these things. She wonders why she ever wanted to become famous in the first place. Sure she's loaded and she can have anything and anyone she wants-oh that's right, now she remembers. But it gets exhausting to have to be nice and smile all the time. Can you say gross. Santana doesn't do nice. Especially not to blubbery whales like Finn Hudson. How the guy got his own show is beyond her. Can he even read the teleprompter? He must be able to at least read basic English, because we all know he's not smart enough to improvise.

"I'd like to introduce my next guest, America's favorite adorkable scientist by day, Sexy assassin by night and star of the show "In The Dead of Night" Here to promote her debut record, the gorgeous Santana Lopez."

Showtime, Santana thinks to herself. Taking one last moment to collect herself, she plasters the most genuine smile she can muster, and sashays over to Finny the killer whale before planting a swift kiss on his cheek and taking a seat.

"Thank you for having me, Finn. I'm really excited to be here" Santana says through a grin.

"It's an honor to have Maxim's hottest woman on the planet to grace us with her presence. Stand up, let's have a look at that dress!" Finn says as he reaches for Santana's hand. Having no choice but to comply, she obliges, to the delight of the audience where whooping and wolf whistles could be heard.

Quinn, Sugar, and Kurt look on from behind the curtain. "Damn, I forget how remarkable an actress she can be. If I didn't know any better, I'd actually believe she was enjoying herself." Kurt observes. Sugar and Quinn nod grimly.

"So let's talk about your show, " Finn begins as the audience dies down." Last time you were here the show was in its first season, right?"

"Yeah, yeah!" another smile. "We had just finished filming the pilot season and none of us were sure if we were gonna continue to have a job," Santana chuckles cutely, "but after it aired it was remarkable how fast it took off! The fans really saved us, I know some of the producers were considering scrapping it before it even aired!" she laughs.

"That's hard to believe seeing how popular the show has become right guys?" Finn asks the crowd. There's a roar from the audience and Santana winks at them causing them to be rowdier than usual. "Tell us a little but about your character so far."

At this Santana visibly perks up. She genuinely loves talking about her work. Even if it has to be to this illiterate man boy. "I play a girl named Echo. During the day she's kind of like this normal adorkable research scientist that works for a huge humanitarian corporation. She's a bit a pushover so her coworkers and superiors often underestimate her. What they don't know is that it's all a cover up because in reality, Echo is genetically superior to most humans. By night Echo becomes this superhuman assassin, who preys on toxic corporations and it's leaders. Ultimately her plan is to destroy them all and also uncover how she came to be. In the season 3 finale, Echo has finally uncovered part of her identity. There's also a cliffhanger as to who she's going to choose. As some of you know she's been torn between two love interests since the beginning, and is finally being forced to choose between Sean, the successful and seemingly perfect son of the CEO, and her best friend and down to earth partner in crime, Heather."

"Fascinating. Now that your music career is going to take center stage, what's going to happen to the show. Will there be a Season 4?" Finn pouts pathetically towards the groaning audience.

"Of course! I'd never want to disappoint my fans. And I'm very attached to the show too, I want to see how it ends just as much as you guys do! I'm a total fangirl " Santana jokes.

"So the rumors of the show cancelling or you getting replaced are false?"

"Absolutely, my extraordinary manager has worked on this possibility for years, and thanks to her hard work, we have the film and tour schedule down to the T!" she explains happily. Not one to normally give out compliments, Santana was happy that Finn gave her an in to thank Quinn. She really had worked her butt off for Santana. This record had been her dream since the very beginning, and Quinn worked day in and day out to make it happen and for that, Santana was truly grateful.

"Well now that we know a Season 4 is definitely in the works, Do you know who Echo is going to choose?"

"Yep. " is the sly reply.

" Well?" Finn baits.

"You're just gonna have to watch the show! "

"Oh come on, you can't disappoint the fans! "

"All I can say is that as always, Echo is going to follow her heart, " Santana says with a wink.

"Alright, alright. We get it you're not gonna crack. Now before we get on to the album stuff, there's something that came to our attention just today in fact. There's some pretty heavy rumors that have surfaced in the past couple of hours, enough to trend on twitter and headline on a couple of online news sites. Care to clear anything up?"

"As always Finn, while I am a very private person, if you're suggesting said rumors are a threat to my character, then I can be as open as possible," Santana replies, with more grace than she actually possessed. On the inside Santana was panicking. This wasn't a part of the plan, Quinn always made sure to warn her beforehand of any heavy material she may need to address. Especially when said discussion involved a rumor. But this was Finn after all, he and his sleaze bag of a producer Artie weren't exactly known for tact. While not as ostentatious as most gossip rag talk shows, they were known to stir the pot a few times in the past just for the sake of a scandal. It made them seem rebellious and that quality tended to appeal to the public. It was then that Santana noticed a foreboding feeling in her gut.

Quinn was outraged. She had been so focused on Santana, making sure there were no signs of Snix that she hadn't thought to do one last sweep through twitter, Perez Hilton, TMZ and all the usual suspects for her routine rumor mill check up. Now Finn had sprung this out of nowhere and Santana was not in the least prepared. Hell, Quinn wasn't prepared! She was pissed! She had a nasty feeling that whatever she would find would not go over well, and she was powerless to stop it. But like hell Quinn was going to go down without a fight. She may not be able to stop Finn from asking Santana if the rumor was true on national TV, but she could at least do some damage control for when the news was finally out. That is why at this very moment, a very angry, and very red faced Quinn had a trembling Jacob Ben Israel, the talk show's research and fact checker pinned against a studio wall backstage. "I swear to God JBI, if you don't tell me what Hudson is up to right fucking now I will personally see to it that that discussing mass of pubic hair you have on your head is ripped off of your scalp!" She spat, in a voice so cold hell would freeze over . Scary Quinn. "And when I'm done inflicting pain on you, I will make sure you're the only living soul responsible for this breach of contract when I sue the hell out of this studio!" Ever the weasel that he was, and currently fearing for his life, Jacob wasted no time in telling Quinn exactly what was planned for the rest of the show. Quinn's blood ran cold. She immediately dialed Kurt, "It's worse than we thought, you have to get to her now. She may actually kill Finn onstage." _AND I MIGHT HELP_ Quinn thought briefly before starting her next set of calls. She dialed Mercedes first, the conversation was over quickly. She opened her contacts once more, and dialed a number she never thought she'd ever have to use, Sue Sylvester.

"I'll take that as a yes!" Finn says with an unnerving smile. The excitement in the audience was almost palpable. Even they could tell that something big was going to happen tonight. "Earlier this evening, one of our research aides came across a very interesting conversation. It turns out, that a couple of interns who work for the studio next door eavesdropped on a conversation you were having." Santana's chest tightened. "They were talking about it when our researcher, Ben-Israel, walked into the room. Having heard that the information was procured without consent, he dismissed it, and of course the interns were fired. However, Israel was too late in containing the rumor," Finn air quoted around the last word, "and the information had already been posted online. In the past couple of hours alone, the rumor has become so widespread that I figured I would give you time to address it and fix any, mistakes." Finn added mockingly.

Santana narrowed her eyes. Her chest was so tight she could hardly breathe properly. She could feel her palms starting to sweat. That foreboding feeling was full on blaring at her now. She knew she was walking into a trap. It was like a bad accident that you couldn't look away from. All you could do was keep going, hoping it would disappear soon. Her panic was only slightly dulled by anger from the fact that of all the people on God's green earth, Finnadequate fucking Hudson was the one who was getting to orchestrate this fucking train wreck waiting to happen.

Taking her silence for assent, Finn continued in a poorly disguised grim tone, "Santana Lopez, did you cheat on your long time boyfriend, with another woman? Sources tell me that since the relationship began, you have had countless lesbian affairs. Were you really that unfaithful to him from the start? Are you really a Lesbian?" Finn fired off question after question. Santana's mind went blank. Whatever she was expecting, this was not it. Her heart was beating so hard and fast it almost jumped out of her chest. And the panic she felt earlier was nothing compared to now. She felt lightheaded, she felt dizzy. She felt like she was going to pass out and wake up to relive this horrifying moment over and over again. THEY KNOW. She could already feel the accusing glares, the disapproving looks, the hateful glances. God, my FAMILY KNOWS. She felt embarrassed. She knew her life was about to be torn apart. Soon she was panicking to the point that she could feel herself begin to hyperventilate. Then, all she felt was anger, so she did what any rational human being would do in this situation-she stood up, and punched Finn Hudson in the throat, then in the face, for good measure. The last thing she saw before she felt arms wrap around her and her vision go blurry was Finn in a heap on the floor, bloody faced and coughing hysterically.

Sugar had made it to the cameras in time to force the operators to shut them off before Santana's fist connected with Finn's throat. Kurt had not been so lucky, because well, Santana's fist connected with Finn's body, twice. The audience was in an uproar. Even the crew was equal parts divided in participating with the crowd- cell phones out recording and taking pictures of anything and everything- while the nobler half was busy attempting to control the madness. In all the chaos Kurt barely managed to get to Santana to prevent her from throwing a final kick at Finn, right before she passed out in his arms. Thankfully, in all the confusion it was hard to see anything at this point, and no one noticed as Sugar and Quinn joined Kurt as they helped him drag Santana to a door and slipped out through the back, then slowly drove off in Santana's limo.

Santana's hand ached. Her head was throbbing. She decided it was best to keep her eyes closed.

"It feels like a nightclub in here. Why did we ever let her get this thing anyway?" Kurt asked.

"It was compromise for the annual birthday bash I make her throw in her honor. If I remember correctly, she said she needed a place to "gets" drunk if she was expected not to kill the guests when they annoy her. She also said something about a nice ride to take the ladies home in." Quinn answered sarcastically.

"Ew, I'm getting visuals. You clean this thing right?" asked a horrified Kurt.

"If you ask me, I think she needed a place to get drunk so she could get over her phobia enough to hit on a lady." Quinn laughs.

She did not. BITCH. Santana thought. Besides, Santana doesn't have to hit on a lady, the ladies come to Santana. She was about to say as much but decided against it. It was too much work to move.

"Should we be worried that she hasn't come to yet?" Asked a concerned Sugar.

"I've got this. Quinn can you hand me a drink, I feel exhausted." Kurt asked.

Santana perked up, "Touch my tequila and you're walking home Porcelain."

"Ah, the sleeping beauty has awoken. How are you feeling?" Kurt asks ignoring the threat as Quinn hands him a glass. Before he could bring it to his lips Santana snatches it away and gulps it down before answering.

"Like I just punched Finn Hudson in the face, and that feels pretty good actually. I've always wanted a shot at Finn the magic talking hippo." Santana answers sarcastically.

"How are you really, " prods Quinn.

"What a fantastic question Q! I feel fucking peachy! Not at all like someone just pulled the rug out from under me and I landed on my face!" Santana bites as she pours herself another drink. "Actually no. I feel like I wanna turn the car around and finish off Finessa! And maybe while I'm at it I'll kidnap the transformer and wheel him into a lake because I'm sure he was the evil mastermind behind this genius plan to ruin my life because we all know blubber tits doesn't have enough brain cells in him to even realize someone is insulting his intelligence let alone have a single original thought in his gigantic head! " she ranted in one breath. Taking another gigantic gulp she continued. "And don't for a second think I'll forget about the jewfro'd pervert that eavesdropped on our conversation! Interns my ass! I'm gonna castrate the little fucker and feed his balls to the other two idiots." The other three in the limo all made disgusted faces at that comment as Santana finished her second drink and proceeded to pour a third. "I am Santana fucking Lopez! They should fear for their lives like the cowards they are!" She chugged the third drink. Knocking on the window partition, she yells, "Karofsky! KAROFSKY! Turn the damn limo around! I'm gonna go kick their asses! They're gonna wish they never fucked with Santana Lopez! I'm gonna go ALL Lima Heights! I'm gonna - I'm gonna- I'm gonna-" Santana's face scrunches up, and not two seconds later she's in Quinn's arms sobbing into her neck as Sugar gently rubs her back.

"Oh sweetie, it's gonna be ok," Sugar cooed.

It was most definitely not gonna be ok. After three different meltdowns, God knows how many drinks later, and a team effort by her glam team ( Read: Kugar glam fam) and manager (read: best friend, also sometimes substitute mom) that is Kurt, Sugar, And Quinn, the latina was still having none of it. She was in hysterics, then panic mode, then the terror that is Snix would rear her ugly head. (Well, not really, any form of Santana is smoking hot If she does say so herself but that's besides the point.) Santana didn't know what to do. She was freaking out, her life was crumbling before her very eyes and she couldn't do anything about it. She didn't know if she wanted to crawl in a hole and just live there, or (die) or beat the hell out of those douchebags that did this to her.

"Te lo juro! Si vuelvo a ver esos hijos dé su pinche madre los orco! Me oyen!? Los OR-CO!"

"Santana calm down, " Quinn was using her velvety voice. Trying to coax the latina yet again from another freakishly scary rant.

"Como quieres que me calme! COMO?! Dios mio que voy hacer, no no no, mi vida esta en las ruinas."

"San, we don't even know what you're saying," Sugar helpfully (not really) added.

"Y ahora que voy hacer? Que le voy a decir a mi mama? Oh my god, my MOMMM! "

"You'll be fine Santana, I turned out fine" added Kurt.

"Youuuu!" pointing a finger at his face and glaring. "Shut it Lady Hummel. It's not the same! " Santana fumed.

"of course it's not but it's not going to be the end of the worl-" Kurt suddenly stopped midthought and cringed as a livid latina lunged at him. Quinn had had enough, so she stepped in front of her best friend, who was currently trying to throw punches around her at Kurt, and unceremoniously slapped the girl in the face. Santana froze, touched her stinging cheek, her eyes losing focus, and just stared into space for a while.

"Q, I think you broke her." Sugar said as she watched in awe.

"San? " she asked tentatively. Quinn was a bitch, sure, and could hold her own, but in those long seconds she thought she may have gone too far and the latina was contemplating her murder.

" um, yeah, thanks. I think I needed that. " Santana replied in a monotone, Finally snapping out of it." But if you ever do that again I swear to God, Q! "

" I know I know, you're gonna get your Lima Heights on." She replied slightly amused but mostly relieved. "I'm sorry San, but you almost maimed Kurt for no real reason. I did the first thing that came to mind."

"Like that's comforting, has slapping me always been the first thing that comes to mind" Santana replies somewhat teasingly. Quinn just shrugs. "So what's the plan, Q, because honestly I'm at a loss here. And this is more your area of expertise."

"Actually I've already set a plan in motion. I've already called Cedes and Sylvester, they're doing damage control as we speak. "

" You called SUE? Are you fucking nuts? That woman is literally, clinically insane! Do you not remember the last time when she tried to sell us off to those thugs in sexual trafficking? Or the time she nearly shipped us off into the middle of a warzone? Or the time-"

"-We get it, S. But she was the only viable option we had. She's the only one with enough contacts to pull this off. " Quinn said somewhat vaguely.

"... And what exactly are we trying to pull off, Q. Because any plan involving that woman is sure to be crazy, not to mention scary."

"Yeahh, about that.. " Quinn trailed off.

" Q. " Santana warned menacingly." What did you do? "

" Umm. Why not have another drink first? " Quinn replied in a smaller voice, already heading for Santana's well-stocked, and very impressive in-mansion bar.

"Quinn Lucille Fabray!" Santana spoke in a stern and dangerous tone. "Tell me what you got me into."

Quinn winced at the use of her full name. "I meant a drink for me, not you." then mumbled lowly to herself, "I think I might need it after this." Santana was not amused, but waved her off anyway. Truth be told, She probably needed the few seconds to mentally prepare herself for this. Fucking Sue Sylvester.

Seeing Quinn making her way back, half a drink in hand, Santana simply states "Spill." Quinn takes a deep breath to brace herself, and finishes the last of her drink for some liquid courage in preparation for Santana's reaction to what was being set in motion.

"Well. As soon as I cornered JBI and found out the full extent of the situation, I called Mercedes so she could start working on figuring out a way to shut them down. We figured if we could settle with Artie's company for breaching their contract with you by sending JBI to breach your security and gathering information illegally , they would settle and allows us to spin it in a way where it seemed like their sources had fed them slanderous information instead. "

" OK, soo..? " Santana inquired.

" So, no go. " Quinn answered.

"No go? What do you mean no go? What happened?"

"Turns out they really tried to burn you San. And covered their bases. They have proof, and there's no way to trace it back to them. They must have paid off the interns to take the heat so they could get off the hook. And since the interns were outsourced, they have no real ties to Artie or the show."

"What kind of proof, Q?" Santana asked dangerously. "And what about Finn? Didn't he implicate them by asking me something that wasn't approved beforehand?"

"No he didn't, because by then the rumors were out in other media outlets. They used the leak cleverly, because as it was happening they just "happened" to have you on the show live. Managing to spike their numbers, being the firsts to get the scoop from the source directly, and playing it off as if it was some breaking news they got a whiff of last minute. "

"That's bullshit! They did it and you know it!"

"I know San. "

" Wait, you said something about them having proof. Proof of what? "

" Well, they have the conversation recorded, they did some editing and there's no way we can deny it's a rumor San. So that's where Sue came in, If we couldn't deny it, we had to minimize the damage. The implications of you cheating, with a woman no less, multiple ones, on top of the whole incident with Zizes has put you in a really bad light. Especially since you've been a supporter of LGBTs thanks to the show and all. They made you look like a hypocrite in every way possible. People bounce back from this but with your career only starting and so much baggage at once, we had to bring Sue in. So we made a deal. "

Santana's heart dropped. She was panicking again. She thought they could still salvage the situation. That she didn't really have to come out, and she could deny deny deny until it blew over. And on top of everything, they thought she was the one cheating? Please! That skeeze got caught with more strippers than Berry's entire memorized music catalogue. Not that she cared, and he was a nice guy, they were each others beards after all. But the double standard was just not fucking fair!

"Basically. She figured out a way to get you on Ellen, and somehow is pulling off a really nice spin to the turn of events. They're publishing something in a couple of her more reputable magazines and newspapers, that you were planning on coming out on Ellen initially, and the conversation that was leaked of you had been taken from Ellen's studio from an initial interview to get you on the show, edited to make it seem like you just got caught red handed somewhere else. Once the story runs you'll go on the show and talk about the shock of how you were outed by Artie's company in a premature manner just so they could up their ratings. They can't do anything without implicating themselves, so they'll have to run with this version. They have no choice. You'll also have to come clean about your relationship. Your "boyfriend" is already on board. Ellen's credibility along with the fact that she'll be making you look like the victim, which you really are, will help a lot. All you'll really be blamed for is being in the closet. So it'll be almost like a stalemate between us and Artie. They hurt us but we hurt they're reputation too." Quinn finished.

As if being blamed for that isn't bad enough Santana thought. That in itself is career suicide. Fuck wheels and his band of sleazy men. Wait. "What's the catch? What did you offer Sue for all of this?"

That was the question Quinn had been dreading the most, well, besides having to tell her not only was she forced, but literally shoved out of the closet and the door is locked shut and she can't jump back in. Santana values her privacy, but most of all her freedom, and she was about to lose a lot of it.

"Lucy! I won't ask you again."

"She's heading your reimaging. As now she has a stake in any future sales you make thanks to a deal made with Holly, Cedes, and myself."

"Q! You sold my soul to the devil!"

"Satan, you are the devil." Kurt adds helpfully.

"Besides, Sue Sylvester is like Kronos or something equally as evil, she'd eat her own children just to stay on top." Quinn adds.

"Please Q, spare me the nerdgasm." Santana said woefully. She didn't even have enough bite to insult her properly.

"Look San, you don't have to do this. We can handle it on our own, in another way. But honestly, being in Sue's clutches for a little while is probably the best way to go. She's ruthless but she's the best, maybe losing a little freedom for a while will be worth it. Besides, I'm still your manager, I won't let her do anything too drastic. It's all up to you, they're waiting on your final call."

Santana sighed. She was exhausted, and she hadn't even started doing anything yet. But she trusted Quinn, she wouldn't be where she was without her help. She's been there for Santana through thick and thin, and this affected her career too. All of their careers. She'd never say it out loud, but she cared about all the people that worked for and alongside her. Quinn made sure to surround her with people that could tolerate Santana's rough personality, and these people grew on her. So she made her decision. Ugh, is she really thinking about others. What is this world coming to. Whatever, I'm doing this mainly for me, Santana Fucking Lopez does not go down without a fight. "Fine, Q, I'm in"

"I'll make the call." Quinn said, stepping out of the room, cell phone already in hand.

There's a high pitched squeal and clapping from the other side of the room. Santana turns to glare at Sugar. Seriously, what the fu-

Feeling Kurt's disapproving eyes and Santana's glare, Sugar looks up from her phone and just shrugs. "What? I just broke the entire table on my Poker app. Money is money and these losers have to pay up. Besides, I'm too rich to have to keep up with that depressing conversation we were having. Sorry, Aspergers."

It had been a week and Santana still hadn't left the house. She was still too depressed. Soon Sue's articles would come out, but Santana didn't dare check her twitter or turn on the TV for fear of what people may be saying. She also hadn't had the courage to call her mami yet. She wasn't sure if the older woman had found out anything yet. Yes, she kept tabs on her daughter, but she was more of a novela watching type. And aside from keeping up with her daughter's show, didn't really make the time to keep up with celebrity gossip. The woman was a hard working wife, keeping up with housely duties as well as her job. And her doctor father never really surfaced much from the hospital to be bothered with such things. The only times they ever talked was when Santana called weekly to catch up. Thank God. Still, Santana was nervous. What if they had already found out and never wanted to speak to her again. Lima was a small town, maybe someone had already told them that their daughter was a lesb-God, she couldn't even think the word anymore. She had come so far since high school, and now that she's being forced out Santana seems to want nothing more than to tiptoe back in and slam the door. Santana hadn't realized how long she'd been sitting on her couch with a bottle of tequila on the coffee table, looking like a hot mess in grey baggy sweats and a black tank top, her hair in disarray and up in a messy bun. She even had her black thick rimmed glasses on. She never wore those. Lost in her thoughts, she hadn't even realized someone had been at her door for more than ten minutes until they snuck up on her.

"Earth to Santana! " she finally snapped out of it, hearing a loud high pitched voice, or really it may have been the snapping and hand waving going on for several seconds in front of her face that finally got her attention. Geeze, there was something wrong with her if Berry's shrill voice hadn't even phased her.

"What do you want hobbit" she snapped. Finally back to her senses.

"Quinn sent us to check up on you. She said you haven't picked up your phone in a couple days." an airy male voice from beside Rachel said. Santana hadn't even noticed Kurt was there too.

"So she sent Prancer and vixen? How is that supposed to help my mood? " she retorted.

"Quinn unfortunately was tied up doing negotiations for your deal with Sue. Mercedes, Sam, and Noah are busy at the label doing pre-production for your recording album. I'm not exactly certain why Sugar could not make it, but she does disappear from time to time. I do wonder what she gets up to when she's away. Maybe I should invite her out for a cup of tea to inquire about some of her other extracurricular activi-"

"-I get it Berry you're the only two losers without actual lives, geeze I didn't ask for a book report."

"Well I do like to keep up with my friends lives. It's important to keep in touch with those closest to you on a regular basis "

" You have no friends. " Santana deadpans.

" Santana" Kurt intervenes putting his hands together and taking a seat next to the disgruntled Latina. "we get you're having a rough time but you need to relax a little. We're here to help."

"Thank you for that rousing pep talk gay Peter Pan, but I don't need your help. You know the way out."

"Sorry Satan but we're not taking no for an answer. You're spending the day with us. Besides you're looking more and more like a lesbian every day in those clothes, not helping your case much. Go get dressed, we're taking a spa break! " Kurt finishes with a squeal as the diva jumps up and claps in excitement behind him.

Santana snorts," yeah, cus hanging out with Gayberry the Broadway diva and a guy whose so flaming gay a blind person can spot him is gonna help my case. " she grunts, but nonetheless gets up to change if only to get them to stop talking.

"I've expanded my career into the movie industry Santana, Broadway will always be my heart but I am not confined to only one area of the arts!" Santana rolls her eyes at the tiny brunette. Not bothering to hear the rest of her speech. As if she didn't know what Berry did for a living. She talks so incessantly that Santana even knows her nighttime skin regimen. Not that Santana actually listens, of course.

They're sitting in the back of Santana's limo on the way to the spa. The tiny brunette is already talking a mile a minute about all the relaxing and zen things they're going to do this weekend. Santana wasn't really paying attention, just staring melancholy out the tinted windows. Suddenly, she stiffens as if just now realizing where she's going. To a spa. With people. In LA. With people. And did Berry just say, they were staying for A. Whole. Fucking. Weekend. With people! Suddenly Santana is sitting straight up telling them to turn the car around as if her life depended on it. Honestly, to Santana, it probably does.

"What's wrong did you forget something?" Kurt asks puzzled.

"Turn the car around."

"Whatever it is we can probably just get it there San-"

"I swear if you don't turn this fucking car around I'm gonna throw Karofsky out the window and drive it back myself!"

Kurt, finally realizing the Latina was panicking yet again, but puzzled as to why, managed to calm her down and get her to talk.

"You're taking me to some swanky spa that's probably gonna be swarming with judgy people who are gonna tell everyone where I am and I'll be ambushed. And for a whole weekend! What were you two idiots thinking! "

Rachel, visibly relaxing at the absurdity of her friends panic went on to explain," Santana, The Sunnyday Resort and Spa is the most prestigious establishment in LA that a star such as myself often frequents when in need of relaxation. I assure you that they are both private and professional and pride themselves in their utmost discretion. I, myself spent a week there after the humiliating breakup that was Jesse St. James after retiring from Broadway. It truly is a getaway for the rich and famous, so to speak."

"My idea of a relaxing weekend is not spending it trapped with pompous, spoiled housewives and egotistical celebrities! That's exactly what I'm trying to avoid!"

"You don't have to. They have many options available, we can take private classes between the three of us and all your massage therapy sessions will be on your own. Honestly Santana, stop worrying. You need this, besides, we're already here. "

" Yes and if you turn back now I'll miss my weekend. You pay me well, but not this well. This weekend is on you and Rach. "

"Seriously Lady Hummel, you drag me out here and expect me to pay? Besides how much can it be, pansy?"

"About 8,000 each for the weekend." Rachel shrugs.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Calm down Santana, it's not like you can't afford it. You drop that much on shoes every week." Kurt quips.

"Yeah, but I actually like shoes." Santana says despondently.

They walk in the massive golden doors surrounded by beautiful plants and flowers. Santana going a little overboard with her head down, huge glasses, and even went so far as to borrow Karofsky's chauffeur cap until they got inside. Even so, she kept her head down and let her long black locks frame her face, but was not ridiculous enough to wear glasses indoors. She was famous, yes, but that amount of arrogance in Santana's opinion made her scoff. Berry didn't seem to share the sentiment.

"Hi! How can I help you?" asked the cheery receptionist, who in Santana's opinion looked like he had dived headfirst into a vat of gel and it cemented his hair into place permanently. And those eyebrows looked like huge black caterpillars you'd only find living in the Amazon. And what up with that bow tie? (_What? I'm a judgemental bitch, ok_) Kurt, however, seemed to be immediately smitten with the guy, making faces at the receptionist that rivaled Hudson's constipated baby look. Seriously Porcelain, you call that flirting? I could do better and I'm pretty sure the man is also capital G gay.

"Yes, reservations for Hummel, Berry, and Lopez." Rachel replied in the same annoyingly chipper tone.

"Of course! We were notified of our three newest VIP guests just this morning! If you'll follow me I'll show you to your suites." Blaine answered politely.

Kurt immediately fell into step with Blaine. Berry was too busy trying to monopolize every reflective surface as she walked down the hall. Santana rolled her eyes at their antics and made to follow ,but stopped short. There, at the end of the hall, were the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. The woman was looking at a bulletin board with a confused expression on her face. She seemed to be counting with her fingers, eyebrows furrowed slightly, but Santana could only take in the rest of her for a few seconds because her gaze kept being drawn back to those electrifying blue eyes. As the quartet neared the end of the hall, it seemed as if gravity was getting stronger, and just as Santana felt its pull, those azure eyes flicked and locked with brown. Time seemed to stop, and she felt a tug at every fiber of her being. Whether she was being pushed or pulled, Santana did not know. Her existence was consumed by hues of blue and flecks of gold.

"Santana, do you think I should pose with my left side more often? My cheekbones are a lot more defined that way don't you think?"

And just as quickly as she fell into blue, she snapped out. _Fucking Berry. _Feelingslightlydisorientedbutmostlyembarrassedthat she had been caught staring (_because duh, Santana Lopez doesn't stare) , _she quickly rounded on an unsuspecting Rachel.

Brittany lost count, for the millionth time, but this time it wasn't because of her difficulty with telling time or understanding work schedules. This time she lost count because the woman of her dreams had literally just breathed the same air as her.

"Santana." She whispered.

__2 Days Earlier__

"Ok, so what are the rules this time?" Kitty asked, bottles of wine in hand, followed by Unique deftly carrying four wine glasses, and Marley bringing up the rear carrying snacks. Brittany was already perched front and center on the plush couch, eagerly awaiting 7 o'clock and checking her favorite actress' Twitter.

"I think we should get rid of the rule where we drink every time we catch Heather eye fucking Echo, we got wayy too drunk last time and Brittany forgot the show wasn't real." Unique suggests. "But we should definitely still drink every time we see echo in leather, and every time Sean says something stupid."

"How about a sip every time there's an on-screen kiss?" Marley supplies sweetly.

"Ok. And we're definitely drinking every time someone drops the F bomb, and every time Echo disappears unnoticed. We need one more."

"I've got one," Kitty says with a wicked grin, glancing towards Brittany. By now they had all settled around the couch and on cushions on the floor. Brittany was still too immersed with her phone to notice everyone was staring at her now. "How about we drink every time Brittany fangirl's over Santana."

Marley giggles, "should we start now because I think she's already on her Twitter!"

"Yeah be real white girl, this idea is worse than the eye fucking rule, we'd be drunk before the show even started." Unique says rolling her eyes.

"Ok, ok, how about anytime she mentions Santana exclusively in a sentence?" They all nod.

As if on cue, Brittany squeals, "Oh my gosh, guys! Santana just posted that there's a special scene in the episode that's gonna reveal who-what? Is there something on my face?"

Unique turns to glare at Kitty,"Mmm, I blame you." Before joining Marley and taking a sip.

"Just drink, Brittany." Kitty says, lifting her own freshly poured glass and handing the fourth to Brittany.

"Did I miss something?" Brittany asks confused

Santana could have sworn she heard her name as she rounded the corner. The back of her neck prickled and there were goosebumps on her arms, but she didn't dare look back. Rachel gave her an inquisitive look, after all, the Latina had been ranting at her not two seconds earlier about how she was gonna get the razorblades out of her hair soon if Rachel didn't stop talking. The Latina shrugged and sped up, effectively avoiding Rachel's look.

Santana was rich, sure, and she had elegant taste, _but holy fuck this place is unreal._ As soon as she walked in her suite Santana thought that she may like this place after all. To her immediate right were a small set of stairs that led down to a small oval indoor pool. The pool itself was filled to the brim with the clearest scented water, and wading the surface of the water were hundreds upon hundreds of rose petals-hues of reds, oranges, pinks, purples, and blues made Santana think of a sunset. The warm steam fogging from the water only helped to reinforce the thought. Facing the pool was a floor to ceiling window, framed by three marble columns evenly spaced out. If the view of the pool was beautiful, the view outside was magical. Santana could see lush trees on either side of a small, natural waterfall. The light filtering through the trees was reminiscent of the pool, and she could see the gorgeous blend of colors the sunset made through the green.

The rest of the suite was just as lush. There was a marble lined rainshower, a five foot Roman bathtub, fluffy robes probably imported from Italy or some shit. A huge ass bed that seemed to have been fashioned from clouds and could probably accommodate the entire extended Lopez family (_that's saying a lot)_. A wood burning fireplace inside a theater room (_I thought these people were hippies and banned technology?) _ that consisted of a slim 90 inch plasma complete with surround sound and wraparound Italian leather sofa. Seriously, Santana could live here. Just as Santana was about to settle on the ridiculously expensive but oh so totally worth it sofa, the hobbit and a very giddy Kurt marched in unannounced like they owned the damn place. Santana rolled her eyes, of course it could only go downhill from here.

Brittany stood frozen for what seemed like hours. Was that real? Was Santana really here? Did she accidentally drink an entire bottle of cough syrup again and forgot what real life was? She did that once, and Marley and Unique had to explain to her that Santana wasn't really trapped in a building with a bomb inside. It had been a Thursday and Brittany was really sick but didn't wanna miss Santana's show, so she took some cough syrup. In true Brittany fashion, she read the dosage wrong and downed the whole thing. Next thing Brittany knew she was crying hysterically because 'poor San couldn't die before Brittany hugged her at least once because she looked like she needed a hug,' and Marley was tucking her into bed. But Brittany wasn't sick, and she wasn't allowed to touch the cough syrup anymore. She hadn't drank since the weekend, and she was pretty sure Lord Tubbington stopped sneaking pot into her brownies. That left only one thing, this _was _real life, Santana _was _here, and Brittany was assigned to her.

This morning when Emma informed the staff that they were going to receive two high profile celebrities and a guest, Brittany figured it was just another one of their regulars escaping yet another divorce, or coming in to tone down before jumping into a rigorous new project. Although Emma seemed a little more on edge than usual, Brittany soon dismissed it. She was probably just freaking out about the kitchen incident from last week. Emma didn't do well with messes, and last week had been incredibly messy.

"Brittany, Mike, and Aphasia, you three are our best all around, so ill be assigning you to each of our guests. Aphasia, Rachel Berry is one of our VIPs, and seeing as you're the only one who has been able to handle her, you'll be assigned to her."

"She's the one with da money Miss P. that's how I can handle her. She's annoying as hell but the diva tips well," Aphasia supplies shamelessly.

"Right. Moving on. Mike, I hear one of the VIPs is male, and according to Rachel, very gay, and she has requested you specifically for her guest."

"Score for Mike Chang's abs!" Brittany jokes. Mike shrugs at her with a lighthearted smile.

"Sure, Miss P."

"And of course, last but not least, Brittany. Our third VIP is the most important and the reason we had to , call this meeting. She doesn't want to be here but special circumstances have forced her to check in to our resort. From what I've been told, she can be very hostile and is not happy to be here, but her situation is delicate and I have assured Miss Berry that you will try your best to ensure that her last guest enjoys her stay. Are you okay with that Brittany?"

"Of course Miss P., you can count on me. Except don't make me count, because I can only go to 10 before I have to start all over," Brittany answers.

Emma gives her a small smile, used to the blonde's comments from years of employing her during summer's and breaks from tours. "Ok, well I drew up some pamphlets for you should you have any questions." Miss Pillsbury grabs three neatly folded pamphlets from her desk and hands them to her star employees respectively. 'So you're hustling a diva for money,' 'My abs and how to use them to get ahead,' and 'So you're in love with a fictional character and can't stop touching yourself.'

"Umm, Miss Pillsbury, what does this have to do with my assignment?" Brittany asks, puzzled.

"Oh, well, umm your friends had some, erm, concerns." The doe eyed woman replied.

Kitty spoke up, "Basically we thought you should go out and get laid rather than lock yourself in your room pining over a fake character played by a hot t.v star you've never met," she finished bluntly.

"Righhhht. Thanks?"


End file.
